


In The Golden Age Of The Hollow

by faithtrustandohno (nattherat)



Category: Disney Fairies
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Canon - Movie, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nattherat/pseuds/faithtrustandohno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various ficlets about the Seasonal Ministers, generally movie-verse, some with a little book-verse thrown in, some AU. Archived from my roleplaying account on tumblr; faithtrustandohno. (Quality varies because of them being spontaneous rather than planned, but I hope you enjoy them anyway!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Between Autumn and Winter

Snowflake sat alone in the shadows, under the border tree, barely visible against the ice that seated her and the deep blue night sky. As she preferred, of course, frivolous displays and garish colours were best left to Hyacinth and Sunflower. No, Snowflake enjoyed these quiet crisp nights, alone with only nature.

Well… as alone as one Minister of Winter could be. She could hear the faint flutter of scout-talents in Autumn, and she hid a smile knowing that they were bickering among themselves as to whether they should ask if she was quite well sitting alone on the icy part of the river. She sighed contentedly and lay down to face the stars, spreading her wings flush either side of her and delighting in the cold they felt. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the whistling wind and the rustling of wind in the Autumn trees, letting it carry her away. The only thing that could make the moment better would be a blanket of snow.

“I would ask to join you.”  
  
Redleaf’s voice didn’t surprise her. Or, if it did startle her at all, she didn’t show it. Snowflake opened her eyes and propped herself up on one arm lazily, to watch him hover over the unfrozen water. He was still wearing his suit from the Seasons Passing celebration, and the light caught his bare chest and arms. Some of the yellows didn’t agree with the blues of the night, but the reds certainly did, and she made no secret about inspecting him.

“You cut a fine figure Red, when you want to.”

His brow raised, but he chuckled with her, understanding the tease as an invitation. Snowflake shuffled behind him as he sat on the ice, tracing his wing patterns with her hands and drawing frost along them. For some reason she never did quite fathom, performing her talent on her fellow ministers was much different to simply forming frost normally. Perhaps it was the trust, or the closeness. It could have very well been both, considering they had so little time to spend together. No matter the reason, they sat in silence as Snowflake worked, covering his wings in crystals from the tips to where they joined his back. When she was finished, she left her cold hands rubbing circles into his shoulder blades and rested her head beside his.

“How much work would it take to fix…” Snowflake drawled into his ear, her grin growing wider, “if I frosted the leaves from every tree we can see right now?”

“You couldn’t,” Redleaf replied without missing a beat. “There are far too many trees.”

Snowflake laughed and patted his back before slipping her hands round his waist to cuddle him which he accepted with a happy sigh, leaning against her. She smirked, hearing whispered gasps from the scout-talents.

“Was the Seasons Passing dance really so exhausting?”

“You are asking if a dance to show the wild liveliness of summer and the energy it provides the surrounding seasons was not tiring?”

“How fortunate our seasons are seasons of rest then.”

They rested in silence for a few minutes. The stars were beautiful, and so were they. Warmth rose from Redleaf’s skin and bled into her, a treat she only occasionally indulged in and not one she’d admit to others, but the Minister of Autumn felt the same she knew. That, or he was subjecting himself to an icy embrace out of sheer boredom. She drummed gentle rhythms against his stomach, and drew circles of frost upon him.

“Snow, that is  _freezing_.”

“It’s in the name,” she hummed, not stopping at all.

“Might I then assume that your intention is to freeze your fellow ministers?” He gasped a little and covered her hands as the ice became too much. Snowflake smiled and reluctantly relented, finding herself wishing as always that her friends could enjoy the cold as much as she could.

“Of course. Hyacinth is next, naturally. I’m simply waiting for the right time to strike.”

It earned her a laugh from Redleaf, and he turned to offer her a hand as he rose up. Within a few moments, she had removed the frost from his wings, and he was ready to leave again. Their time was always so short, and she knew the disappointment showed in her expression for once.

“Dawn marks the beginning of the Autumn preparations…” Redleaf’s voice had taken on some of it’s professional tone, but they linked hands like any fairy youngling. “I suppose I must be going.”

“Be sure to look suitably guilty when you pass the scout-talents Red, the Hollow will love something to talk about.”

“I can do better than that.”

Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, warm breath against her cold skin and lingering in place. It was all she could do to prevent herself from bursting out laughing as she heard shocked commotion from the direction of the scout fairies. ’ _Do better than that’_ indeed!

“You’re going to snap in two from cold if you linger much longer,” Snowflake chuckled softly. “Go on, off with you.”

He flashed her a rare toothy grin as he pulled back, squeezing her hand before taking off. She watched him return to the Autumn Forest, folding her arms over her chest, already wondering how to arrange things to spend time together again. Perhaps she would ask Milori to handle a few more tasks in the coming weeks, she felt distinctly… playful.


	2. Anwyl is Unwell (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ficlet thing about human AU Seasonal Ministers. Anwyl Spring (Hyacinth) is ill, Eirlys Winter (Snowflake) bothers him. Set in the late 19th century/early 20th century, so there's some references to more uncomfortable things in this. Everything is mild, but race is brought up. If you'd like to know more about this AU, check out the verses page over on my tumblr! http://faithtrustandohno.tumblr.com/verses

“Rise from your rest, Princess Hyacinth!”

Anwyl Spring found himself shaken from troubled slumber by an even more troubling voice. As though his health did not suffer enough in these cold months that his  _delightful_  cousin must worsen it. He groaned – most unbecoming he knew, but Eirlys entering his bedroom was a far greater transgression so he hardly felt guilt over his lack of manners – and burrowed deeper under his sheets. Perhaps she would bore and leave him.

“The devil takes the idle my dearest cousin, and it is already noon.”

She punctuated her words by pulling the sheets from him, eliciting a gasp from him.  _Of all the nerve!_  He threw his arms around himself to maintain some dignity despite his state of undress and glared at her with all the strength he could summon. Of course, she simply laughed.

“Oh Anwyl, you  _do_  look ill!”

Eirlys seemed to find his circumstances irritatingly mirthful, but Anwyl hadn’t the energy to remain annoyed. He imagined he  _did_  look quite a sight, bedraggled, nightgown twisted around him, perspiration from fever and cheeks flushed. Meanwhile, his cousin seemed in perfect health.  _Naturally_.

“…If I could insult you in turn, I would,” He replied weakly, grabbing at the sheets and relieved to find she surrendered them to him. He cocooned himself again, and met her bemused expression.

“Perhaps you should leave me be, lest you want to contract ‘idleness’.”

Eirlys perched on his bed – the nerve of that woman sometimes – and crossed her arms, fixing him with a pointed stare.

“Anwyl, you should know that if I do not clothe myself in corsets then I shall similarly not clothe myself in the prison masquerading as religion.”

“You shall go to Hell for that.”

“I shall go to Hell for much more than that.”

Anwyl laughed. It was a weak and pitiable laugh, but he felt a little cheered. Lady Winter was a shocking, frightful individual. He was glad she was his cousin, though he would never admit it. Eirlys chuckled and patted his shoulder through the sheets.

“Now then,  _Mr. Spring_ , I really suggest some fresh air, and then subjecting yourself to the housekeep’s whims. Miss Summer has had the Indian fellow ready to draw a rejuvenating bath for you all morning.”

He nodded, waiting for her to leave his room before he allowed himself his inevitable – when it came to 'the Indian fellow’ - blush. Purely curiosity of course. One didn’t commonly meet such men this side of the pond, certainly not in high establishment. 'Redleaf’, as he’d understood the name of the man to be, was quiet, hard-working, strong, and sometimes so _terribly improper_. It was fortunate the grounds were shielded from outside view, or Anwyl may have found himself having to explain to the constabulary why one of his servants favoured indecently exposing his chest.

An image that he himself would do best not to dwell on. His life in the country had been peaceful and lawful, and yet his new estate was already home to illegal immigration, cross-dressing, gender concealment, Women’s Suffrage Society meetings… he hardly needed to add his own unnatural interests in amongst it all.

If he had any, that was. Really, how could one  _not_  take note of Redleaf? The man was so different, so unique, and his voice was just so terribly soothing and calm; it was hardly Anwyl’s fault if he could not help but… well, take note.

His own quickened raspy breathing reminded him that whilst having his rationality compromised by a fever was not the most advisable time to be considering the nature of his interest in a servant. He would take Eirlys’ advice, fresh air would do him well, and perhaps a little repotting should he feel up to it.

Clearing his mind and summoning up his strength, Anwyl rose to dress himself.


End file.
